People Aren't Always What They Seem
by NamiHatake
Summary: Rated T for mild language, violence, and innuendo. I will continue this if I can after season 3 depending on where the story goes. Please everyone, write more Sephora! XD
1. Chapter 1

Blake couldn't sleep.

After the fights on the train and the fight in city, she and her exhausted team promptly headed back to their dormitory to get some much needed rest. As soon as they had gotten back, Blake immediately dressed for bed and climbed into her bunk.

Yang hadn't bothered to change her clothes before sprawling out on her bed like she'd just finished a night of binge drinking. Her long blonde hair was a mess, one boot was hanging haphazardly off the side of her bunk and she was softly snoring. Wiess had been as meticulous as usual with her nightly routine. She decided last minute that she wanted to study, but passed out before she'd even opened her book. Ruby showered, threw on pajamas and curled up on her bunk falling fast asleep without a care in the world.

But Blake...not so much. She still had a lot of questions and despite her optimistic feelings after the battle, her mind was still uneasy.

After laying awake for another hour or so, her mind's restlessness won out. She quietly dressed and made a stealthy exit through the window. She wasn't sure where she was going, she just needed to clear her head. The cool night air was calming, but she was even more awake now.

Blake began wandering around roof tops, trying not to be seen. After what happened that day, the military felt the need to force a curfew on Beacon Academy and the students visiting for the Vital Festival. She knew they were concerned for everyone's safety, but it didn't seem like keeping people indoors after dark would really make much difference. She and her team had done more to stop whatever plot was thickening than the military had, and a curfew wouldn't stop them from trying again if needed. If a group of students could find out more information than the military...maybe they were compromised? Or, maybe she was just being negative and paranoid. She sighed. _I really am too serious_ , she thought, _Son is right_.

She found herself drawn towards the military's base of operations where they were keeping all the prisoners captured today - the few who had survived, anyway. The guards were pretty spread out and there were several open windows. If she could break in, maybe she could get some answers from one of them.

Blake sighed again. That was a stupid idea and she knew it. There would be cameras, there would be too many guards and the prisoners wouldn't exactly be happy to see her. She had already seen their loyalty to whatever cause they had - they wouldn't be volunteering any information, especially not to a White Fang deserter who had helped put them there. Still, for almost an hour she stayed perched on a rooftop, just watching and studying, contemplating ways to breach the prison's defenses.

Something caught her eye. One of the guards was missing.

Four guards had been making rounds like clockwork with a very easy, predictable routine, but one was definitely gone. The guards' pattern was set so that each would see the next before they rounded the building. The guard ahead turned and saw that no one else was there, but collapsed before having time to make a sound. Blake ducked further down behind the roof's ledge as she watched a shadowy figure dispatch the two other guards who had been alternately manning this section. A moment later, one of the building's doors opened.

She cursed inwardly as she saw Roman Torchwick's trademark white coat. Her initial thought was that he was being broken out of jail, but she raised an eyebrow in confusion as she realized he was being dragged out by two men and he looked unconscious. The two men holding him handed his cane and hat to the first man she had seen. They all nodded to each other, then snuck away. She followed suit, assuming they were heading for some form of transport. She wasn't about to let them out of her sight.

She snuck from roof to roof following them until they got to East edge of the city. She was shocked that they had gone the whole way on foot, especially while carrying someone's dead weight between two of them. It seemed a little too easy of an escape. There were still no alarms signaled from the prison and the police on night patrol seemed to always be a street away. Either this had been planned very, very well or these people had pulled some strings. Given the type of people Torchwick associated with, she wasn't sure which was true.

After he was caught, Torchwick put his hands up and complied fairly well with everything but giving up information, so it only made sense that he knew he wouldn't be imprisoned for long. From what Blake and her team were told, he would be very well guarded because of that, although she doubted anyone expected his stay to be quite this short. What made the least sense was that he had been dragged out and that he wasn't currently aware that he was being rescued, assuming that's what was happening. He had probably made so many enemies it wouldn't be a stretch to think that people other than just the military would be out to get him. Still, to go to these lengths would mean he had made some very bitter enemies who would prefer facing the military to his current employer.

Frustrated, Blake furrowed her eyebrows, still keeping a sharp eye on her targets. _Always more questions_ , she complained to herself. She wanted some answers for once - even a few would suffice.

The group slowed as they hit the edge of the forest on the outskirts of Eastern Vale. They didn't stop moving, but they were talking in hushed voices now and seemed to be hesitating before entering. They were all looking back as if waiting on some sort of signal.

Sirens. The prison alarm had finally gone off.

Blake climbed down from the her last rooftop perch and hugged the shadows of the impending tree line and the last few buildings that butted up against it. She needed to get closer, she needed to know what was going on. She had enough advantage to feel confident in creeping closer than was probably necessary. She noticed while pursing them that the group was made up of all humans. Their hearing and eyesight weren't as sharp as hers. After having such an easy time getting here, she also assumed they didn't expect to have been followed.

The trio and Torchwick came to a halt just inside the forest's treeline and pulled out flashlights. The faces of all three men were completely covered with some sort of sheer fabric to obscure their features. Their posture now that they weren't sneaking around was rigid, making Blake think they might be or might have been in the military. The man carrying Torchwick's weapon and hat pulled out some sort of communication device and said something about it to the others.

They were starting to speak less quietly so Blake was finally able to make out a few words. One of the men carrying Torchwick said something about wanting to take a break. The other seemed to agree. The third man nodded to them, as if granting permission. They abruptly dropped the limp body and started stretching their shoulders.

This was definitely not a rescue. Torchwick had hit the ground hard, landing with his face towards her. In the limited light, she could tell that his eye was bruised and nose was bleeding. How had she not noticed before? His stark white coat, now probably stained with grass and dirt, hadn't given any indication. The jolt of his fall didn't elicit any kind of reaction and for a moment, Blake thought he was dead. Apparently she wasn't the only one.

"Check his pulse," said the first man audibly, apparently no longer deeming it necessary to whisper.

The man who had asked to take a break bent down. He was a little too close to Blake for comfort, but at least he was blocking her from the glare of the flashlights. She crept a little further back while the other men watched him put his fingers to Torchwick's neck.

"He's still alive," the man said as he stood back up, "I didn't rough him up that bad."

"Not as bad as the General will, I'm sure." Said the third man, still stretching.

"Yeah, but he'll need to be in good enough condition to live through whatever the General wants to do to him before we hand the sick bastard over to the animals. _They_ get to finish him off. That was the agreement and our orders are to follow it. Be a little more careful for f-"

The first man paused and looked down. The little light on his device had flashed three times.

"The General is on his way, let's move."

The two men lifted Torchwick's body up again, none too gently and followed the first man deeper into the forest. Blake crept along quietly after them still trying to figure out the situation. _Were they referring to General Ironwood? Would he be willing to take interrogation to a level outside the law? And who did they mean by 'animals'?_ Torchwick had been working with the White Fang and she wasn't aware of any other groups of Faunus extremists, at least none who were still around. _Maybe the White Fang had finally decided to get rid of him, but needed to do it without his employer knowing?_

 _Just who the hell was he working for?_

Blake tried not to let all of her thoughts distract her from keeping pace. She knew she would get some answers if she was patient and kept quiet.

After almost an hour, the men stopped in a small clearing. The two men holding Torchwick dropped him with no regard again, earning them a disapproving sigh from the first man, who seemed to be the leader of the group. The two men stretched again and sat down by a tree. It seemed like they were settling in for a long wait. The first man tossed Torchwick's hat and cane to them and started pacing, eyes fixated on his little device. He seemed restless, but she couldn't tell if it was anxiety or anticipation. The other two men seemed more relaxed. One clicked off his flashlight and decided to use Torchwick's hat as a makeshift pillow, leaning his head back against the tree to take a nap. The other man tossed the cane aside and watched the first man pace, occasionally glancing at the unconscious body lying on the ground a few feet away.

Blake creeped fairly close to where Torchwick was lying. She could see that his breathing was labored and shallow. They really had roughed him up. In spite of her better judgment, she felt a tinge of pity for him. She immediately repressed the sensation, remembering everything he had done. His criminal record was outrageous, he had tried to kill her and her friends on more than one occasion, and on top of that, the smug prick seemed to enjoy taunting her.

 _What if these people are more dangerous than he is_ , she wondered?

It struck Blake that she should have notified her team and probably the authorities. She had broken her promise and wandered off on her own again. She doubted any of them would wake up for several more hours, but on the off chance… she quickly and quietly reached into her pocket to make sure her scroll was silenced. It was too late to contact them now without its light being seen and if they noticed she was gone and called she would definitely be caught.

Another twenty minutes had gone by before Torchwick started to stir. The man who had been watching him stood up and walked towards him. Torchwick made a pained sort of sigh as he started to regain consciousness. The man hovered over him a minute before using his foot to not so gently roll him onto his back.

"Ah, you're awake." the man said in mock concern.

"What a shame," said Torchwick. His voice was strained, but he still managed to mirror the man's tone, "I was having such a lovely dream."

Without warning, the man kicked him hard in the side. The man who had been sleeping was startled awake by Torchwick's gasp of pain.

"What did I tell you," the first man started, but the lights on his device had started to flash again.

They were definitely military, Blake thought as all three men stood at attention and waited.

The man who kicked Torchwick glanced at him to make sure he wasn't going anywhere - he definitely wasn't.

The General, Blake assumed, was close.

A few moments later, light from another flashlight came bouncing towards them and a fifth man entered the clearing. He wasn't wearing black or wearing a mask like the others. The white uniform was as recognizable as Torchwick's jacket. It was definitely General Ironwood.

"At ease, men," he said, "and good work. Everything went as planned."

He turned his attention to Torchwick who was still doubled over in pain.

"I trust he's still fit for punishment?"

 _Punishment_ , she wondered?

"Yes, sir." Said the first man. Blake heard a tinge of uncertainty in his voice, but the General didn't seem to notice. His glare hadn't left Torchwick.

"Well, then..." he said, handing his flashlight to the first man and clapping his hands together, "Let's get started."

Blake didn't like the look in the General's eyes or the haughty smirk on his face. He almost looked...sadistic. Already, this didn't feel like an informal interrogation and Torchwick's trial and sentencing would undoubtedly land him with a few life sentences - if not worse - ruling out some sort of vigilante justice scenario. _Something is wrong_ , she told herself. _Whatever is happening, it is definitely wrong._

Ironwood strode towards Torchwick and knelt down by his face.

"You know, had you cooperated more today, you might have at least delayed this."

Torchwick looked up at him and smiled, "And I thought you were just eager to have me all to yourself."

"Well, it has been a long time since we got to chat candidly like this." Ironwood said, taking a step back. She really didn't like that look.

He pulled a flask out of his jacket and tilted it back as he watched the battered criminal try to stand. Torchwick's smile faltered slightly as started trying to pick himself up.

Before he was able to right himself, the General nodded to the masked men. The two who had been carrying him before came and helped him to his feet...in a manner of speaking. Torchwick didn't resist. He seemed fully aware of his predicament, but kept smiling and as they dragged him to the middle of the clearing.

 _This isn't right._

The first man's flashlight was aimed at him like a spotlight. She had to duck to the left a bit to avoid the light of one of the men holding him - she made a mental note that there were only two left on.

From her vantage point, she could see Torchwick's battered but smiling face clearly.

 _This isn't right_ , Blake repeated inwardly. As much as she hated Roman Torchwick, something about this situation was making her extremely uncomfortable.

The General tucked his flask back into his jacket and slowly walked towards them. Without warning or hesitation, he punched Torchwick hard in the stomach. He gasped and coughed as the air left his lungs. Ironwood gave him a moment to catch his breath and then hit him again, this time harder. Then again...and again...and again. Blake flinched each time.

 _Why isn't his aura protecting him?_

"Maybe you were right, Roman," he said, grabbing a handful of orange hair and lifting Torchwick's head so they were face to face, "I think I was a little eager to do this."

He let go and Torchwick's head dropped.

"Take off his jacket," Ironwood ordered, walking away a few steps and pulling out his flask again.

Torchwick lifted his head weakly. Despite his difficulty breathing, he seemed determined to speak.

"What? You don't like it, General?" His words were strained, but defiant. "You know, I happen to enjoy the irony of a villain in white, just as much as you do."

Ironwood promptly spun on his heel, flask still in hand and punched Torchwick square in the mouth. The sound made Blake cringe.

Torchwick spat blood in the grass and lifted his head again with even more difficulty this time.

"It's not like you to pull your punches, General. I still have all my teeth." Torchwick smiled, opening the large split the punch had opened on lower his lip. Drops of red were now dripping from his chin. "If you're going to remove my coat," he asked the man to his right, "could you please do it before getting any more of my blood on it?"

Ironwood tossed his flask down and hit Torchwick full force in the chest. Apparently, he was tired of being antagonized. There was no snarky comeback this time. Blake doubted Torchwick was going to remain conscious much longer.

This was getting harder and harder to watch. Blake wasn't sure what do. She had daydreamed about beating Torchwick senseless after everything that he had done, but now that she was watching it actually happen...she felt sick.

The General seemed satisfied at having finally shut Torchwick up. He glanced around for his flask, but gave it minimal effort. He reached into his jacket again. _Does he seriously have more than one flask?_ She wondered, but he pulled out something else metallic. Blake saw the glint of a blade.

 _I don't like where this is going._

She knew she could just sneak away now. She didn't have to watch this. She could sneak back home and rest easy knowing that Roman Torchwick no longer be a threat, but Ironwood's behavior was scaring her. He was _enjoying_ himself. He wasn't asking questions, he wasn't listing crimes to be atoned for. He spoke as if they knew each other, as if something like this had happened before. There really was something else going on. _If I leave now,_ she told herself, _I won't get answers._

Removing Torchwick's gloves and jacket took several minutes since his body was almost completely limp. He didn't (and probably couldn't) put up a fight, but the two men needed both of their hands to complete the task, so the man holding the second flashlight decided to discard it.

Torchwick's gloves and the belts that held them were thrown in pile. His jacket was handed to the first man who tossed it on the ground close to where Blake was hiding. As it fell, she ducked closer to the tree where the two other men had been sitting. She noticed that she was now within arm's reach of Torchwick's cane.

"He can't stand anymore, so just let him kneel," Ironwood said.

With little effort, as Torchwick seemed no longer able to stand without support, they dropped him down to his knees. Ironwood toyed with his knife for a moment, then looked towards them.

"What, nothing to say for once?" he taunted, "I'm disappointed. After, what has it been...six years...you don't have something extra witty planned?"

Torchwick only coughed, spattering blood on the ground in front of him.

When he still didn't get a reply, Ironwood continued, "You know, for a while I thought you had decided to forgive and forget."

Torchwick cleared his throat, spitting out more blood in the process. Ironwood walked up and bent down in front of him.

"Well?"

"What," he choked out, "is there...to say?"

Ironwood grabbed Torchwick's hair again. Blake cringed at the sight of his bruised and blood soaked face now illuminated by the remaining flashlight.

"You disgust me." Ironwood said bitterly, "You deserve this and soon I will be able to get rid of everyone like you."

The maliciousness in his voice didn't seem to have nearly the effect on Torchwick as it did on Blake. He actually started laughing. It was intermittent with coughs and gasps, but he was laughing.

"I've had about enough of your mockery," Ironwood said. He knelt down, grabbed Torchwick's shirt front and used the knife he was holding to cut it open.

"Oh, General...I didn't forgive...or forget-" Torchwick said, "and it doesn't...matter what you...do...or what they do now." He was still coughing and laughing, trying not to choke as he continued, "Too many…plans...are already in motion...to take out...people...like... _you_...and people like... _them_ "

His laughter stopped abruptly and he cried out in pain. Blake gasped and quickly covered her mouth. If Torchwick hadn't been so loud, she definitely would have been heard. Ironwood was hunched down with his back to her, so she wasn't sure exactly what was going on. She imagined him slowly pushing a knife into Torchwick's chest just to hear him scream. She couldn't handle this anymore. She had to do something. _This is wrong._

Then she heard it, a word she had only heard a few times. It was one of the worst slurs she knew of and one that wasn't used lightly. Both Human and Faunus extremists used it when they felt their race was being 'polluted.' And Ironwood had said it...to Torchwick?

"I may not get to kill you, Roman, but I got to kill her. And I WILL finish carving this into you, you disgraceful little shit."

 _Did he just say CARVING?_ Blake was horrified.

One of the masked men ripped Torchwick's ascot off and used it to muffle his screams.

"You got lucky back then, but instead of keeping your head down, you chose to openly mock me even after your reputation was ruined and you had nothing left. You won't be so lucky this time." He laughed, "No one gives a damn about you."

Blake was done sitting idly by. She picked up Torchwick's cane and aimed it in the air, while aiming her own gun at the last flashlight.

She fired.


	2. Chapter 2

Ironwood was startled by the firework sounding explosion. He shielded his face from the intense light, bloody knife still in hand. Once the flash was over, they were completely blind in the dark.

"What the-," Ironwood started to demand, but he was cut off by a blade at his throat.

"Drop the knife," Blake ordered, "and stand up, slowly."

Ironwood let the knife fall to the grass. As he rose, she saw Torchwick's chest. There was so much blood. She tasted bile as she fought back a wave of nausea. In the center of his chest deep cuts formed the letters of the insult the General had used on him.

"Let him go," she yelled, trying to control the hint of hysteria that had crept its way into her voice, "NOW!"

The two men holding Torchwick were hesitant. Unable to see much in the dim moonlight, they had no idea what was going on or where the angry voice had come from.

"Do it," Ironwood told them calmly.

They dropped Torchwick in the dirt. He managed to catch himself before falling face first and sat back clutching the wounds on his chest.

"Hands up, all of you!" she shouted, the hysteria in her voice getting more and more prominent, "Get away from him!"

They complied. She took a step back, prompting Ironwood to do the same.

She tossed the cane toward Torchwick, but he didn't seem to notice. It looked like he was fighting to remain conscious.

"Why did you do that to him?" she asked.

Reverting back to the authoritative and charismatic voice he normally used, Ironwood answered, "Because he deserved it."

Torchwick scoffed and coughed up more blood. He looked towards where Blake was standing, confusion spread across his battered face. He blinked a few times, unable to make her out in the dark. Then it seemed to dawn on him who she was. He managed to choke out, "I know that...voice" before his gaze dropped back down to the bloody puddle his injuries were forming in the grass. "Hmm," he laughed.

"Tell your little friend that it's pointless to try to rescue you," Ironwood said callously.

"She's...not," Torchwick winced and paused to catch his breath, "my friend...she's probably just mad she didn't get to do...most of this." Despite his difficulty speaking, he sounded amused.

"Is this true?" asked the General.

"He deserves to be in jail!" she told him angrily, "Not mutilated!"

"But you know he would just get out again, don't you?" he replied, "He will go right back to being a thorn in the side of this peaceful city."

"This is a hate crime," she accused, "it has nothing to do with why he was in jail and you know it!"

"Oh, but it does," the General hissed, his voice becoming menacing again, "This has _everything_ to do with why he was in jail. It's _why_ he became a criminal."

"Leave," she yelled, "NOW! Or I WILL kill you!"

She moved her blade from the General's neck to the small of his back and prodded him forward with a little more force than necessary. There was now a distinct tear in the fabric of his jacket.

"We've done what we came to do," he said over his shoulder.

Ironwood started walking off in the direction he had come from. He signalled for the others to follow and they slowly walked off without looking back even after they had turned on their remaining flashlights.

Blake was shocked. She hadn't expected them to just leave, but they did. Nothing that had happened tonight made any sense. She stood there, gun aimed at their backs until they disappeared from sight.

 _What do I do now?_

She knew she should get Torchwick to a hospital. For some reason, his aura wasn't helping him heal. Then it dawned on her, if she took him anywhere public he would end up back in jail again where the General could get to him. She would risk putting him back in the same position he was in now. _Where the hell could we go?_ She could tell people what she had seen, but even if they saw the state he was in, she knew the General would deny everything and they would believe his word over hers. Ironwood would find out who she was and then he'd come for her, too. She couldn't think of a way out of this mess and she was beginning to panic.

A snarky voice interrupted her frantic thoughts, "That was incredibly stupid, Kitten, but we'll discuss that later if we get the chance."

"I-," she started to speak, but Torchwick cut her off.

"However, since you have apparently decided to rescue me, we probably don't have much time before my next group of old friends shows up..." his voice turned bitter, "...to murder me." He took a deep, ragged breath and stood up. Blake was genuinely impressed. He was still a bit hunched over, but maybe he wasn't as bad off as he had seemed after all. She picked up his cane and handed it to him.

"How can you-,"

Torchwick cut her off again, "We need to run. Now."

He started running North, so she ran after him, worried he would lose his footing in the darkness and end up worse off than he already was. The night's trauma didn't seem to have left him as disoriented as she thought, despite it being near pitch black in some places he had no trouble navigating. He apparently knew this area of the woods fairly well.

They both glanced back periodically to see if they were being followed. As far as she could tell they were fine, but Torchwick was still running like his life depended on it.

 _His life DOES depend on it_ , Blake reminded herself.

Blake easily kept pace with the injured man. He finally turned and started leading her towards the city. The path he used was confusing, but still seemed deliberate. They were nearing the outskirts of Vale when she noticed Torchwick's pace slow drastically. They were only about ten minutes from one of what she recalled to be the shadier districts, but they had been moving for over an hour and even she was beginning to tire.

"Are you going to be okay?" she asked. He didn't acknowledge her question, so she pressed on hoping for the best.

The best didn't last long.

"Arghhh!" Torchwick gasped and hit the ground. He didn't fall so much as just collapse. The adrenaline that had kept him going in lieu of his aura had finally given out. She ran to his side, kneeling down, and awkwardly placed a hand on his shoulder. He slowly sat up trying to catch his breath.

"We're...close..." he told her, his voice was raspy and sound almost desperate.

"To where?" she asked. He didn't respond.

Ducking her head, she saw a grimace on his face, his visible eye closed tightly.

"Torchwick," she pleaded. Still nothing. She gingerly cupped his chin and lifted his face to meet hers. "Where are we going?" she asked. He finally looked at her, but she could tell his focus was a little off.

"A...safehouse" he told her.

She nodded to him and withdrew her hand. He seemed to be getting his bearings back a bit, but she knew he would need her help to stand. She carefully lifted his left arm over her shoulders. The motion made him wince. _He's probably got some broken ribs_ , she thought and paused to give him a moment to adjust before he tried to regain his footing.

She slid her right arm around his back, feeling his muscles tense through the thin fabric of his shirt. Without thinking, she stole a glance at his mangled torso. She was still horror struck by the bloody obscenity etched into his skin, but noticed that he was in extremely good physical shape. _I guess that's how he's made it this far_ , she thought, surprised.

He cleared his throat to get her attention. She looked up quickly, embarrassed that he caught her staring. He raised his eyebrow. She furrowed hers in response, but tried to look sympathetic. She would rather him be offended by her staring at his wounds than amused by the fact that she was...well, it didn't matter. They didn't have time for this.

"Are you ready?" she asked, impatiently. His eye narrowed a bit in question, but he responded only with a nod. She counted to three and lifted.

 _Thank God we're close_ , she thought. They needed to get wherever they were going fast. She wouldn't be able to carry him or even support his weight for long. He was a head taller than she was and a lot more...dense than she had anticipated.

Torchwick was able to walk, but only just. _Convenient that he carries a cane_ , she thought. She stayed close, letting him clutch her shoulder when he started to get off balance. They were finally out of the woods, but the streets were no more level than the forest floor had been and Torchwick was having more trouble keeping steady.

The buildings, she noticed, were in as ill repair as the pavement. Most of the store fronts had barred windows and several places were boarded up and abandoned. This is definitely the shady part of Vale, she noted.

Blake followed Torchwick's lead as he wound through several dark alleys. She started feeling nervous about who they might run into on top of worrying about who might be following them. He finally motioned for her to stop. They were now standing in front of a particularly antiquated looking shop. He glanced around cautiously before approaching the door. She followed suit, straining her ears to pick up anything that might be even remotely suspicious. When she got to the door, he glanced at her to confirm they were clear. She nodded in response. He opened the door and beckoned her inside, closing the door quietly behind them.

The lamplight from the street was muted by the shop's filthy windows. Blake's enhanced vision showed her nothing but empty shelves and spider webs as she followed Torchwick to a closet in the back of the stockroom.

"Where are we going?" she whispered.

He opened the door to what looked like a very tiny closet and pushed her inside, almost falling in after her.

"Close the door."

"Why are we in a closet?"

"Close the door. Now." he ordered as sternly as he could muster in his present condition. She was still skeptical and didn't move.

He placed his right hand on the wall above her left shoulder for balance and used his other hand to reach for the door and pull it closed. She glared at him, but then remembered he couldn't see her.

"Why are we in a closet?" she asked again, irritated and a little flustered by being pinned between him and the wall. He steadied himself and brought his hands to her shoulders. She started to protest, but he brought a finger to her lips.

"Shhhh," he said and gently shifted her to the right. He felt the wall where she had been standing and found a breaker box. He opened it and flipped a few switches. She heard a click and noticed that the opposite wall suddenly moved, revealing hidden door. Before she could maneuver around him and open it, Torchwick collapsed again. She was close enough to catch him this time, but only managed to slow his fall, sliding to the floor under his weight. The front of her shirt was now stained with his blood.

"Urgh!" she hissed quietly. She managed to shove him off of her and lay him on his back...sort of. She stood up and edged her way around the pile that was his limbs. She lifted his torso out of the way enough to open the door. There was a dark, narrow hallway ending in a staircase. She rolled her eyes and started attempting to drag Torchwick's dead weight through the door.

The sound of glass shattering inside the shop startled her and she froze. _SHIT_ , she cursed, chiding herself for losing even a second's worth of time. With all her strength, she drug the unconscious man's body out of the closet. She closed the door, realizing too late that the breaker box was still open. She pressed her ear to the door and listened.

There were definitely voices. The empty store sounded like it was being looted. She couldn't tell what the offenders were saying at first, but from the tone they were using she knew they were very, very angry. She heard the closet door open and the breaker box being slammed shut.

At this range, she could make out enough to know these weren't just a group of random hooligans breaking an entering. They were definitely after Torchwick-she heard his name and...that slur...but this time it was mixed several derogatory terms used for humans. These people were definitely Faunus.

"That's enough," a familiar voice chimed in, "let's keep moving."

Blake's heart almost stopped. _No!_ she thought, _no, no, no, no, no, no_! She sank down quietly by Torchwick's legs, both hands covering her mouth to hold back the sounds of disdain and disappointment threatening to escape.

 _Adam, why?_

"Urgh..."

Torchwick's soft gasp startled her. She crawled over him and covered his mouth with her hand. Leaning down to his ear, she whispered as quietly as she could, "Shhh, they're here."

Lifting back up, she saw in his face that he was definitely disoriented. He couldn't see anything in the cramped, pitch black hallway, his visible eye darting left and right trying hard to determine his surroundings. The voices outside the hallway made him pause. From her position, she could tell that he was holding his breath.

When the voices got too far away to distinguish, he exhaled and stifled a cough. She saw relief in his expression, then felt his lips stretch into a smile beneath her hand. He slowly reached up and slid his hand over hers. He pulled it from his mouth, squeezing it lightly.

"Thank you, Blake." There was a look of genuine sincerity on his face and it made her pause.

"You're welcome." she responded dutifully, watching the warm smile change back into his usual cocky grin.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

Realizing their awkward position, she slid her hand out of his grasp and rose quickly. _At least he can't see me blush right now_ , she reassured herself as she helped him back to his feet. She put her ear to the door again and listened. The cool metal felt good on her warm cheek. She couldn't hear anything at all.

"I think they're gone," she whispered. After another pause for safe measure, she walked over to help guide him through the darkness.

It took Blake, the wall and the cane to get Torchwick down the staircase without incident. The door at the bottom had a coded lock that he punched a few numbers into. Once the door was open, she helped him inside. He flipped a light switch on the wall and blinked as his eyes adjusted.

Blake was relieved to see the safe house was in much better shape than the storefront. It was furnished like a nice studio apartment. In front of them was a large bed made up with a heavy gray comforter. Small tables sat to either side, each with a small lamp on top. On the opposite wall was a small black couch and a door she assumed led to a bathroom. There was even a kitchen area and a small table with two chairs. The remaining wall was covered in bookshelves. A thin layer of dust told her this place hadn't been inhabited for quite a while.

"Couch." he told her. She nodded and helped him limp around the bed.

As they rounded the edge, he started coughing and had to stop. She led him to one of the chairs at the little table. He slumped into it as his cough fit tapered off. Barely able to hold himself up anymore, he leaned forward and let his forehead rest on the table. Blake held onto one of his shoulders in case he started to fall over.

She had no idea what to do. She was exhausted, her mind was frantic and she had next to no medical training. _After everything_ , she realized, _he's still going to die._

"You need a doctor." she told him.

"No." he said, not bothering to look up. He let one of his hands fall from the table and grasped her leg weakly. "I need you..." He coughed again and paused to try to control his breathing. Blake stared intently at him, waiting for him to continue. She felt so strange in that moment, with his sentence hanging. She realized she was holding her breath and exhaled sharply. The sound seemed to prompt him to continue. He gently squeezed her calf.

"I need you to open the drawer on the far right counter," he paused again and released her. She let go of his shoulders, hesitating for a moment to make sure he was stable, then rushed over to the counter and threw the drawer open. There was a small first aid kit. She pulled it out and rushed back to his side.

"I don't think some band-aids are going to help you," she told him, her voice sick with worry.

He laughed a little and winced. She put her free hand on his shoulder and set the box down on the table in front of him.

"You're going to die! Let me take you to a hospital." she pleaded, awkwardly placing her other hand further down his arm. He didn't respond, so she shook him a little. Torchwick sighed and lifted his hands to the table. Taking as deep a breath as he could manage, he started to push himself up. Blake moved behind him and put a hand on each of his shoulders. He reached over and slid the box in front of him. He opened it and pulled out a syringe filled with a thick purple liquid.

"What is that?" she asked. He tore the packaging open with his teeth and prepped the needle.

"This," he said, his voice now hoarse, "is an antidote." Without further explanation, he placed the needle over his heart, swearing loudly as he plunged it into his chest. Blake cringed, but didn't look away. Her grip on his shoulders tightened as she watched him slowly push the purple liquid into his chest. By the time he had emptied the contents, her nails had started to break skin through his shirt. He started directing his profanity at her as pulled the needle out and threw it on the table.

"Get your fucking claws out of me!"

"I'm so sorry." she said, releasing her grip immediately and pulling his torn shirt over his shoulder to see what kind of damage she had done. She had drawn blood in three places. She ran her fingers over the nail marks, looking up at him apologetically. His expression softened, but he still didn't look happy. She crossed behind him to check his other shoulder. It was just as bad. She frowned, embarassed. Torchwick wasted no time in teasing her.

"I hear...kisses make things...feel better, Kitten…so...if you're really sorry…?"

She rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

"Oh, come on, Blake," he said playfully, "consider it...a dying man's last wish."

She was completely at a loss. After everything that had happened that night he was using what may be his last few moments to taunt her.

"You're an ass." she said, scowling. She reached up to throw his shirt back over his shoulder. She glanced at the nail marks and hesitated. They were starting to disappear. She rushed over and pulled the fabric back off of his other shoulder to see that those marks were gone as well.

"You say no to kissing, but now you're trying to undress me?" Torchwick asked, shrugging the remainder of the shirt down his back. Blake rolled her eyes again, but decided it best to disregard his comment. He reached his arms behind his back to tug them out of his sleeves. She grabbed his shoulders and turned his torso towards her. She was relieved to the hateful word the General had carved into him was slowly starting to heal.

A smile started to tug at her lips, but stopped when all the questions the night had raised started flooding back into her mind. She let go of his shoulders and stepped back, startled by the intense stare he had trained on her. He slowly slid his arms free of the ruined shirt and let it fall limp around his chair.

"Why did Ironwood do that?" she blurted out.

Torchwick shook his head.

"Tomorrow, Kitten. Let's talk tomorrow."

"But I-,"

"Blake!" he didn't shout, but his tone was firm and she backed down. He sighed.

"We have a lot to talk about," he said in a much gentler tone, "but we both need sleep." He looked down at his cane, then back up to her, "Can you help me to the couch?" She nodded and came to his side. He draped an arm over her shoulders and she helped him to his feet and over to the couch.

He had a hard time getting settled as he was too tall to fit comfortably. "Why don't you sleep on the bed?" She asked, but he had already passed out leaving Blake alone with her thoughts. She sank to the floor and watched the wounds on his chest slowly begin to close up.

That had definitely been Adam's voice she had heard. She had left the White Fang because of the unsavory activities he had instigated, but she had never expected him to be a part of something like this.

Torchwick shifted in his sleep and his hand slid off the couch and fell into her lap. She looked down at it and his blood on her white shirt. Her vision blurred as tears started to well from her eyes. She reached up to her face. She was so exhausted it took her a moment to realize she was crying. She leaned her head against the couch, absentmindedly taking his hand in hers, and sobbed softly until she fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Blake woke a start. She had had one terrible dream after another and didn't feel well rested at all. She sat up, disoriented by her surroundings. She was in a bed, but it wasn't hers. She didn't have gray sheets...

Memories of the night before came flooding back and she remembered where she was. She didn't fall asleep here, she realized. Her eyes darted to the couch. It was empty. She looked to her right, relieved to find that side of the bed still made.

She could hear the faint sound of water running. She glanced up at the bathroom door. _He must be taking a shower_ , she thought, immediately repressing the mental picture forming in her mind before she had a chance to dwell on it.

She slid her legs out from under the blankets. Torchwick had apparently removed her shoes and sat them by the bed along with her weapon. She was thankful that the rest of her attire hadn't been tampered with.

She looked down at the now rust-colored bloodstains on her shirt and remembered how she had fallen asleep. She flushed a little at the thought of Roman Torchwick waking up to find her sleeping so close to him and holding his hand. _What was I thinking?_ she asked herself, embarrassed at the thought of him scooping her up and tucking her in bed.

 _What time is it!?_

She realized she had no idea how long she had slept. She jumped out of the bed, eyes searching for a clock. There wasn't one in sight so she reached for her scroll. Her pocket was empty. She was not happy.

Blake pulled on her boots and started combing the room trying to find it. She would have remembered dropping it. She heard the shower cut off. _Torchwick!_ _He must have taken it_ , she thought angrily.

She needed to know what time it was and she needed to contact her team. She was sure they were awake by now, wondering where she was, what had happened to her and why Torchwick was missing from prison. She ran to the bathroom door and started to pound on it with both fists. She got no reply, so she continued her assault.

"Roman!" She shouted, "Get out here now and give me back my-ahh!" Just as she was about to strike the door again, it swung open and she fell forward. Torchwick caught her as she ran face first into his chest.

"Well, good morning to you, too." he laughed, wrapping his arms around her and grinning mischievously. She looked up at him in surprise. His wet hair was slicked back haphazardly and he looking at her with both bright, emerald green eyes devoid of his ridiculous eyeliner. She was surprised at how young he looked. He's actually kind of handsome, she admitted begrudgingly.

"Is something wrong, Kitten? Or did you just want to get my attention before I had time to throw on a towel?"

Her eyes grew wide as it slowly dawned on her that he was completely naked. She felt her cheeks start to burn and tried to step back. When he didn't let go, she glared at him, her face turning a deeper shade of red. She wanted to claw that amused smirk off his face, but settled for stomping on his foot.

"Ouch!" He cried.

He let her go and lifted his foot up to massage it. Blake got more than an eye full of his anatomy before storming out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She could hear him laughing, but was more irritated at herself for noting that her fleeting thought of him earlier hadn't done him justice.

"Urgh!" Her exasperated sigh just made him laugh louder. _Why did I save him, again?_ she asked herself, crossing her arms and glaring at him though the closed door. She let out another angry sigh and went back to searching the room for her scroll deciding to be as thorough and as thoroughly destructive as possible.

She began by emptying drawers, tossing most of their contents onto the floor. There were only six of them in the safe house, so it didn't take long. She rummaged through the cabinets next, most of which were bare. When she still didn't find what she was looking for, she started in on the bookshelves.

She was halfway through the second shelf when she started paying attention to the books rather than just piling them haphazardly behind her. They all looked like they had been read. Most were historical and pertained to the various conflicts between humans and the Faunus. She stopped tossing them over her shoulder. Some, she realized, were very old and rare, possibly pretty valuable.

Blake looked back at the mess she had made and sighed. _I'm being childish_ , she thought and started putting the books back, worried she had damaged some of them. She picked up a particularly worn book and turned it over in her hands. It was a copy of Third Crusade. She ran her finger down the worn spine. It looked like it had been read several times.

One of the pages was sticking out, no doubt bent up during her tantrum. She opened the book to smooth it out, but it wasn't one of the pages. It was a photograph.

A girl who looked to be around Blake's age sat in the frame on tree stump, holding a book that looked similar to the one the photo had been hidden in. Her expression looked cross, like she was irritated with whoever had snapped the photo. She had piercing blue eyes with slightly feline pupils. Cat ears similar to Blake's poked up through her cropped, messy brown hair.

She flipped the photo over, but found no name or date so she checked through the rest of the pages. Inside the book's cover a brief message had been scrawled out neatly,

 _To Roman,_

 _Love, Autumn_

Blake stared at the photo again, recalling what Ironwood had said to Torchwick. _Was this who he was referring to when he said 'her' and did that mean that he-_

"Ahem."

She slowly turned to see Torchwick standing behind her. He was wearing only a towel and a not so pleased expression. She had been too deep in thought to notice him come out of the bathroom and wondered how long he'd been standing there.

"Find what you were looking for?" he asked. His flat tone implied he thought she had.

"I was looking for my scroll and I-"

He closed the distance between them in one step, leaning down to meet her height, and narrowing his eyes. He was definitely not pleased. She thought he was going to start yelling at her, but instead his expression changed to disappointment.

"Your scroll is somewhere in the forest," he told her, "couldn't risk it being tracked." She hadn't thought about that.

He held out his hands and raised an eyebrow impatiently. She gave him the book and the photo. He glanced at the picture and his face fell. The image seemed to open some old wounds. _The girl in that photo must have meant a lot to him_ , she thought. He gingerly tucked the picture back inside the book, reached over her head and set it on the shelf. He ran a hand through his damp hair and stared at her. He looked so sad. It made her want to comfort him.

Blake wrapped her arms around his bare torso and hugged him tightly, burying her face in his chest. He was caught off guard, but only for a moment. Relaxing into her embrace, he wrapped an arm around her waist and put his other hand in her hair. He rested his chin on top of her head and gently squeezed her.

They stood like that for several minutes before he slid his hands to her sides and gently pushed her away. Blake released him, but couldn't help but run a finger over the thin white scars that marred his flesh. In the light she saw faint reminders that last night wasn't the first time someone had done this to him. He caught her hand and she pulled it back quickly, looking up to see he had the same grim expression she did.

"Coffee?" He asked her, breaking the silence. She nodded. He walked through the mess and picked a package of coffee filters up off the ground.

"You, uh...gonna clean this up?" He asked, glancing back at her.

"Um.. yeah...sorry..." she said awkwardly, resuming her task of refilling the bookshelves.

"I haven't been here in a while, so I doubt we'll have much in the way of breakfast," he told her, trying to sound somewhat cheerful. After getting the coffee started, he opened the refrigerator and started going through the contents, humming to himself as he checked for expiration dates.

Blake finished restocking the bookshelves and started cleaning up the clutter she had left in the floor. She hoped he wouldn't mind that couldn't quite remember where everything went. She didn't want to ask, so she did the best she could.

Torchwick had moved to the freezer, pulling a few items out and scanning the packaging to see if anything was still edible. He didn't seem to be successful, but there hadn't been much there to begin with.

"Well, dearie, looks like we're out of luck," he told her. He leaned back against the counter and turned the coffee can around to double check its expiration date. "At least the coffee's okay. Hope you like it black."

The remaining clutter was where he was standing, so he moved out of her way and looked through a few cabinets for canned goods. Still unable to find anything satisfactory, he gave up his search and grabbed them each a cup. Humming again, he poured them both some coffee and sat down at the table, watching her replace the contents of the last drawer. She sat down in the empty chair across from him and he passed her one of the cups. She wrapped her hands around the warm mug. The coffee smelled strong, but nice. Torchwick took a deep breath and then let it out slowly.

"Well, Kitten, where do I start?"

He leaned back a little in his chair and crossed one of his legs.

"You could start," she said, flushing a little, "by putting on some pants."

Torchwick sighed, uncrossing his legs with a little more gusto than was necessary, and leaned forward, "Will this do for now?"

While the table had blocked most of her view, Blake had seen enough earlier to fill in the blanks. She rolled her eyes in irritation, but decided he had guaranteed enough modestly to continue. She had a lot of questions and this was her best chance to get answers. No more wasting time, she told herself.

"What happened to you?" she asked, then added carefully, "...And what happened to Autumn?"

Torchwick's playful demeanor ceased abruptly. She knew he had expected that question, but it still seemed to hit him like a truck.

"Right to the chase, Kitty Cat..." was all he said for a moment. He took a sip of his coffee and then gave her the same sad look she had seen before. It made her feel a little bad about prying. Without thinking, she reached across the table towards one of his hands. He stood up before she could touch him.

"If you haven't noticed, I'm not particularly fond of this topic," he told her. Blake had definitely noticed.

"Just pretend you're taunting me," she told him, trying to ease some of the tension he was building, "you seem to be pretty fond of that." He laughed at her comment and seemed to relax a little.

"That's flirting, dearie," he said, winking at her. She had noticed that, too, and decided to use it to her advantage.

"I thought you hated the Faunus," she asked with a smirk, "Or do you just have a thing for cat ears?" She was a little worried that comment may have gone too far, but he took it well.

"You got me," he said. Torchwick's smile was no longer reaching his eyes, but she had succeeded in taking the edge off. He glanced towards the bookshelves, then back to Blake, shaking his head.

"I almost married that girl," he confessed.

"Why didn't you?" she asked, worried she already knew the answer.

"She was murdered." he told her, confirming her suspicions and making her flinch. His smile was definitely gone now and he had started to pace.

"It was the night after I proposed," he continued, "a group of Faunus and a group of Humans just showed up out of nowhere. They beat the hell of me and then they started on her. They told us we were disgracing both our races and that we deserved to be killed for it." He sighed in cynical amusement, "Apparently it's the only thing the two sides can agree on." He paused for a moment and glanced down at his chest.

"I watched a Faunus do this...to Autumn." It looked like it still pained him to say her name. "And then James slit her throat." He started pacing again, "I didn't know it was him at the time, but…" he trailed off for moment before returning to his story. "By the time he started cutting on me, I had checked out. I woke up in a hospital the next day. I was told the police had shown up before they could finish me-l guess someone heard the screaming-but that all the people responsible had gotten away." He paused and sighed again. "No one was ever caught...but that usually happens when an investigation is practically nonexistent." His voice was becoming more bitter than sad, "No one wanted to help get justice for people like us. As you can imagine, I lost quite a bit of faith in our legal system after that." He turned to her with his usual flourish, "So, I decided to start a new life. One that would give everyone a real reason to hate me."

By the time Torchwick had finished, Blake was at a loss for words. She stared at him for a few minutes in silence before she covered her face with her hands and closed her eyes. His words at the rally about humans and the people in charge were true-he hated them just as much as he hated the Faunus. She replayed the conversation he and Ironwood had over in her mind. Some of the General's words had held some truth to them… like why he had become a criminal...and why no one gave a damn about him. Her thoughts went back to Adam and she gasped. If that happened six years ago, it made him and Torchwick pretty close in age...What if he was there? She started to cry.

"Blake?"

Torchwick's voice startled her and she dropped her hands to her lap. She hadn't noticed him pull the other chair up beside her and sit down. He looked confused, but concerned, and wrapped an arm around her to try to comfort her. She leaned into his shoulder and sobbed.

"You know, Kitten," he told her in mock disapproval, "I'm the one with the tragic backstory, shouldn't _you_ be consoling _me_?"

 _He's right_ , she realized, a little embarrassed. She sat up quickly and wiped tears from her eyes.

"Now," he said, dropping his arm a little, but not letting go yet, "what really made you cry?"

She hesitated for a minute, looking down at her coffee. She felt selfish. Torchwick leaned down to get her attention, eyeing her suspiciously. She took a deep breath. He had opened up to her and she refused to deny him the same courtesy, no matter how foolish she felt.

"Adam Taurus," she said, looking at him and trying not to cry again, "I heard his voice in the shop. He was with the group of Faunus that were after you. I...I was his partner when I was in the White Fang...and..."

She choked up for a moment, tears falling down her face despite her efforts to hold them back. Torchwick stared at her intently, waiting for her to finish. He didn't look surprised, though. He seemed to know what she was thinking and it made her feel worse. The arm he had around her squeezed her a little, prompting her to continue. "When I left, I thought he was becoming a monster. I never thought...he might have already been one."

"People aren't always what they seem," he told her, wrapping his other arm around her and pulling her to him. He rubbed her back and waited until she stopped shaking.

When she finally stopped crying again, she felt him start to release her. She wasn't sure why, but she didn't want him to let go. She slid her arms around his waist. He obliged, holding her a little tighter this time.

"You're certainly no exception," Torchwick said softly. He moved one of his hands up to her bow and started to untie it. She closed her eyes as she felt the ribbon slide off. Starting between her Faunus ears, he gently ran his hand through her hair. She smiled against his chest and he repeated the motion a few more times. It still surprised her that he was capable of being so sweet.

Blake almost laughed at herself. In less than a day, Roman Torchwick had gone from trying to kill her to trying to comfort her...and he was doing a surprisingly good job. He seemed to genuinely understand why she was upset. _He said the name James earlier_ , she thought... _Ironwood must have meant something to him before what happened_. She hugged him a little tighter and took a deep breath trying to sort out her mixed emotions.

"If you want to keep cuddling," he said, shattering the comfortable silence, "might I suggest we move to a more comfortable spot? The couch maybe, or..." he trailed off at his implication. She pushed away from him and scowled.

 _Way to ruin the moment_ , she thought, though it was probably for the best-she was getting a little too comfortable with him. He smiled at her in his usual cocky manner. She was concerned at how fast she was considering it endearing rather than annoying.

"Relax," he said, stretching his arms and back, "I can assure you I'm not in a hurry to add any statutory charges to my already impressive criminal record."

Blake felt her cheeks heat up and he smiled even wider. _And now it's annoying again,_ she thought, a little taken aback by his comment. He winked at her and she glared in response.

"You are unbelievable." she told him, turning back to her coffee and trying to rein in her irritatingly colorful imagination. No more reading romance novels, she told herself.

Torchwick shrugged and leaned over the table to pull his own coffee cup towards him.

"Roman," she asked, wanting to change the subject and remembering another of her many questions, "why wasn't your aura protecting you last night and what did you inject yourself with?"

"Ah," he said, pausing to take a sip of his coffee, "The military started working on a serum that repressed aura during the war against the Faunus. The General and his cohorts got ahold of some."

"But it was supposed to have been shut down before the project was completed," she interjected, "and after the war, any weapons designed solely to harm any species that wasn't Grimm were deemed illegal."

"Glad you know some history," he smiled, "but if you haven't figured it out yet, Blake, the military isn't exactly concerned with just Grimm. The research was finished _after_ the war. Luckily, I have a few connections who knew where to get that antidote." He looked proud of himself as he added, "...and I'm a damn good thief. The leaders of the White Fang were pretty pleased with that one."

"I wondered how you convinced them to work with you." She had been extremely curious about that. His speech at the rally had been for recruits, not for the people in charge. They would definitely have needed more convincing.

"Well," he said, thoughtfully, still smiling, "it was more my employer. I hadn't exactly chosen a side until I was propositioned by someone with...similar motives...but, yes, that certainly helped them come to terms with dealing with me." He took another drink of his coffee and sat it down on the table, leaning back to stretch again.

"Who is your employer" she asked.

Torchwick put his elbows on the table and glared at her, "While I'm sure that curiosity is why I owe you my life at the moment, you know I can't answer that question." _Of course he would figure that out..._

"I-,"

He cut her off again, putting a finger over her mouth to shush her, "Forgive me if this comes off as ungrateful, Kitty Cat, but that topic is off limits." He removed his finger and sat back again, grinning at her a little maliciously. "In case you've forgotten," he added, "I'm still the villain in your story."

 _He's right,_ she thought, disappointed. _Despite everything that has happened, he's still a criminal and knowing why doesn't erase anything he's done. I shouldn't let this change anything_ , she thought with a sigh. _Tomorrow, things have to go back to the way they_ _were_. The realization made her genuinely sad, but she could see why his loyalty to someone with a similar motive would go far beyond honor among thieves. She needed a moment alone to sort things out and process everything that he _had_ told her.

"May I?" she asked, nodding towards the bathroom.

"Of course." he said and went back to his coffee. Either he didn't notice that she was getting overwhelmed or he was trying to give her space. She honestly wasn't sure which at this point. She also wasn't sure how she felt about him. She sat her coffee cup down and retreated to the bathroom.

She closed the door and leaned her head against it, closing her eyes and trying to collect herself. She inhaled deeply and turned around. Letting out a long, calming breath, she opened her eyes.

Looking around the bathroom, she almost laughed out loud. It reminded her of when she and her team had moved into their dorm at Beacon and Weiss had unpacked all her toiletry items. Torchwick's sink looked way too similar. Had he not been so flirtatious with her, she definitely would have questioned him. She shook her head, thankful for a light hearted moment after such a heavy exchange. She used the restroom and washed her hands, laughing again at his rather flamboyant choice of soap.

She forced herself to look up at the mirror and meet her own gaze. She looked tired. Her face was tear streaked and her make up was a mess. _At least Roman has plenty of face wash_ , she thought with a slight smile. _That's not the first time I've used his first name_ , she realized. Her smile faded and she stared at his blood on her shirt. He had used her name for the first time when they were on the train. He already knew about her past and now she knew about his.

Blake stared at her reflection for a moment, deep in thought. Things had changed so quickly and she wasn't sure where to go from here. She still had no idea what time it was. She needed to tell her teammates everything she had learned. She wanted to help make sure Ironwood and the people with him-Adam included-were brought to justice, but if Torchwick really had found a way to get to the General, he would never let her know.

She peeked out of the bathroom door and saw him still seated at the table with his coffee. He was staring at the bookshelf, looking thoughtful, but sad. She realized at that moment, villain or not, she couldn't hate him anymore and there was nothing she could do about it now. She wanted to bring him back from all this, maybe it wasn't too late.

"Roman?" she asked, using his first name on purpose this time, "Can I use your eyeliner?" He looked up and laughed at her timid smile, "Of course, Kitten. Use whatever you'd like."


End file.
